The Legacy of Paneau: Indemnity
by Sile Crowley
Summary: Sequel to LOP: Audacity. With her cousin Garran Bolc, Ghost Heir Deilia Rys'tihn embarks on a perilous mission to fulfill her sworn duty, even while in exile. Occurs 7.5 APC.
1. Part 1

"No. Not yet."

Deilia Rys'tihn felt her shoulders sag with the weight of the decision she had just made. She tried to keep her voice as confident as she could, but it was more for her own sake than for the woman on the other end of the transmission. At least her friend couldn't see the resignation on her face she was certain she hadn't corrected.

"...are you sure?"

She set her jaw, releasing a slow breath to reassure herself that she was. "Yes, I'm sure. There's something else that I still have to do. I need the time."

"Deilia...this is the only window I can offer you right now. I won't be able to do this again for five years...maybe more. Are you okay with that?"

_I have to be._ "This is important, and there's no other way I can do it. I appreciate what you're willing to do for me, but at this moment, I'll have to decline."

There was a long silence from the other side, and Deilia suspected her friend was desperately attempting to guess what her new mission was. She wasn't about to explain, though, and thankfully the other didn't ask.

"Very well. I wish there was more I could do, but...you understand."

She barely managed to withhold a sigh. "I do. Thank you."

"Take care, Deilia, and good luck on your...endeavor."

As the transmission light faded, Deilia smiled wanly to herself. She had been given the same farewell the last time the two of them had talked, which had been more than four years ago. As difficult as her departure had been back then, leaving her home, her duty, and her son, the choice to prolong her return to Paneau had been even harder to stomach. She wanted nothing more than to swim in the cool, tranquil waters of the Lexcen Lake, or climb and crawl her way through the maze-like cave she and her uncle called home below the lake... But she had learned a long time ago that the job she shouldered as a Rys'tihn Ghost Heir far outweighed her own interests. Throughout her life, she had given immeasurable sacrifices again and again to protect the Legacy of Paneau...and she knew it would require even more of her to bring this one particular Prophecy to fruition...

Drawn out of her thoughts as she sensed another presence behind her, Deilia turned from her console to see her nineteen-year-old cousin, Garran. He was motionless and mostly expressionless, but the saddened, repentant look in his eyes told her just how long he had been standing there.

"I'm sorry," he breathed weakly as he cast his gaze to the floor. "I shouldn't have been listening."

But Deilia only gave him a small smile and shook her head. "It's alright. It's about time I told you, anyway." She had taken another breath to begin her explanation, but Garran spoke up before she had even decided on her first word.

"You took your exile on purpose...didn't you? That's why you didn't want me to go with you."

Stunned, Deilia blinked. Only a handful of people had been told the truth about her exile, and she had been quite selective of who was to know. Overhearing her earlier conversation, he must have pieced it together himself. Impressed but trying not to show it, she released a slow sigh, gathering herself to answer.

"Yes, I left intentionally under the guise of an exile, but that's not why I didn't want you to come." To meet his gaze more squarely, she stood from her seat, though she still didn't stand even with him; her meek, lanky cousin now easily towered a head over her.

"The choice to leave was mine, for very specific personal reasons, and I didn't want you to feel like you were...obligated to me, that you didn't have a choice, too. But you made it pretty clear how you felt, so I gave in, and here we are, a year and a half later."

He thoughtfully considered all she had said for a moment before he responded. "You told that woman that you have something else to do. So what was your first...'endeavor'?"

Her lips thinned into a tight line. "To get better."

Garran had seen her before and after her disease had taken its toll, but she had never told him just how much she had suffered in the interim...

"I knew how sick I was going to become. I also knew that Paneau's doctors wouldn't have the resources to cure me before it took a turn for the worse. That's why I left, so I could get the help I needed without worrying or burdening my family. When I couldn't find the doctor I was looking for...I _was_ able to find you instead."

Though she gave him an affectionate smile, remembering their first meeting years ago, it didn't last long. He continued, sharper than she had ever realized, sharper than she wanted. "And then you sent me away to Paneau, so I wouldn't have to watch while you..."

Her heart ached for him as he understood what she had saved him from. "After what you had just been through, with your mother," she nodded carefully, agreeing with what he couldn't say, "...I couldn't put you through that again. I got better, and you got to experience the life you should've had, with a little bit extra...excitement I wasn't expecting."

Garran had very nearly sacrificed himself to protect his cousins, Koril and Elena's children who were locked in the crosshairs of a dangerous mercenary a year and a half prior. He had done so willingly, and after his recovery, he had demanded to leave with her, refusing to let her suffer exile alone. Now that he knew she had chosen it, as his mother had similarly chosen exile in his father's place, would he want to return to Paneau?

"So, what now?" he continued, watching her closely. "You could have taken that woman's offer to go home, but you didn't. You have another mission?"

She nodded after a moment, reluctant to share if he intended to go back to Paneau instead. "There's someone I have to find. But, understandably, he doesn't want to be found."

His curiosity piqued, Garran arched his eyebrows. "So how are we going to find him?"

Only just able to control a broad smile from spreading across her face, she shrugged casually as she returned to her console to continue her research.

"I have a few ideas."


	2. Part 2

Even before they stepped into the cantina, Deilia could hear the tension in Garran's muscles as he moved.

"Look, I know I'm the one without any of this field experience, but...I'm seriously starting to doubt your judgment."

Already quickly scanning their unfavorable surroundings and the less than desirable patrons inside, Deilia kept her expression calm and confident, hoping to offset the nervousness of her cousin beside her.

"We're getting closer, I can feel it."

He lowered his voice, at least, but still, he protested. "Any closer, and you would've lost that eye." It took all her willpower to not scratch at the diagonal gash across her left eye that was still healing. She could have ignored its itchiness perfectly well if he hadn't returned her attention to it. "This place is even worse than the last. Whoever this guy is, he had better be worth it."

"If I didn't know any better," she answered with a moody bite, "I'd say you sound like you're related to my uncle." She shot him a pointed look, getting her intent across without having to say more. Like father like son, Garran had become more vocal and more overprotective after their last venture had gone slightly awry, resulting in some minor injuries sustained by them both. She knew he meant well and was only concerned for her safety, but she was well aware of what she was doing. One mistake wasn't going to stop her, and he finally seemed to understand that.

Though reluctantly, he remained silent, stepping even closer to her as they continued into the filthy, dim cantina. Dozens of eyes, humanoid and not, all scanned them as they moved, and Deilia met each pair with a scathing glare of her own. They were unfamiliar to the regulars, she knew, but in grimy, roughed up spacer gear, they looked like they fit in. Her new scar and two-toned hair was simply extra flair.

She quieted her voice, too, just in case. "Do you still have that blaster I gave you?"

"Yeah?"

"Keep it handy."

Eventually, those most wary of the newcomers returned to their drinks and discussions, leaving Deilia and Garran to take up spots at one of the three bars undisturbed. Deilia chose her seat with surveillance in mind; with her back to the near wall, she could see every patron in the cantina in front of her. At least, those illuminated well enough by the weak glowlamps. She ordered a mild drink and only lightly sipped it, instead locking her gaze just over the mug's brim at the rest of the crowd. He _had _to be here, she just knew it...

But hours came and went, spacers conducted their business and left, but she had seen no sign of her target. Fatigued and disappointed, she lowered her head, staring at the table under her folded arms. She may have been working off old intel, but he was out of options, as far as she knew. He could only return to familiar territory that was safe, and that narrowed her search substantially. Had she just...missed him?

"Hey, look. Someone _else_ is going to start the fight this time."

Looking up at Garran with an unimpressed expression, she followed his line of sight to an ugly brawl that had broken out between three spacers on the far side of the room. Two surly Weequay brutes were easily handling a smaller human, and though it was hard to watch, she was just glad attention hadn't lingered on her and Garran. She had started to suggest that they use the cover of the fight to leave unnoticed, but she caught a brief glimpse of the human's face...and her stomach froze into solid ice.

Her instincts were right; she _had_ found him, but how could she possibly get him out of this cantina alive?

Suddenly inspired with an idea, she turned to Garran, gripping a fistful of his shirt to roughly pull him down to her as she spoke with quiet intensity. "Go out the back and bring the speeder around to the front door. Quickly."

Too stunned to argue, Garran complied and left without attracting anyone's attention, leaving Deilia to her plan. She took in a slow, deep breath to steel her nerves, preparing herself mentally for the character she had to become...

As she briskly walked over to the fight, she saw a brief glint of shattered transparisteel flying through the air, a large shard of it being forcefully thrust deep into the human's chest -

"Are you two _quite_ finished?"

Her sharp Coruscanti accent easily pierced through the room and drew every gaze to her, just as she wanted it to. Her every muscle tightened with anxiety, ready to rely on sheer reflexes should the Weequay decide to turn their aggression on her. They held the human by the arms between them, but he was hardly conscious anymore, no longer able to defend himself, much less fight back. She would have to work quickly if he was going to survive his grievous wound...

Surprised as everyone else was, the Weequays studied her intently, sizing her up before they carelessly dropped the human to the ground, and the larger of the two answered with a deep, rough voice. "The hell do you want, lady?"

She had to suppress a grin, putting her hands on her hips with confidence. "I want you to _not_ kill this man."

The two laughed as they exchanged glances. "The lady wants to be a hero."

Deilia added an edgy laugh of her own. "Oh, I am no hero. I want him alive...but he'll wish he were dead when I'm through with him."

As expected, the Weequays' expressions changed. They were now taking her seriously.

"You see," she continued darkly, "he owes me a _substantial_ debt, one he will never be able to repay. So, I intend to take my payment the only way I can - for as long as I can. I can't do that if he's dead."

She could already see the gears turning in their thick skulls; they weren't as dumb as she pegged them to be.

"He owes us, too."

"Yeah," the other spoke up for the first time with a calculating sneer, "that's right. He broke our drinks...with his chest."

She had them right where she wanted them. "Really. You're going to deny me my prize over a few spilled glasses of grog?"

"They were...expensive glasses."

Narrowing her eyes at them, she hesitated just long enough... "Fine. You allow me to leave with him, I'll leave you with replacement drinks."

"Your 'prize' is obviously worth more than a few drinks to you."

She feigned annoyance by crossing her arms. Negotiating with such ignorance was almost unfair. "So he is. I think five hundred credits each as a..._finder's fee_ is sufficient."

They were momentarily silent, and her pulse pounding in her ears was almost deafening. Had she been too eager to offer credits? Had they seen through her ruse?

"Make it a thousand each, and I think we'll call it even."

She couldn't let the intense relief she felt surface in her expression. Outwardly reluctant, she gave a disgruntled huff as she glanced about at the room's spectators. "For a thousand each, you'll both haul him outside, where my speeder is waiting for me."

One seemed satisfied, but the other protested. "What makes you think we'd do that?"

"You will," she grinned, "because if you don't, after I leave, you'll still be in here. We've caused quite a scene, you see, and every single patron in this..._fine_ establishment will know just how many credits you have in your pockets. Maybe they'll wait to take their chances, but to me, they already look somewhat...eager."

The Weequay were quick to give any onlookers intimidating glares, but she knew she'd gotten to them. She flashed half of the credits in one hand, knowing they would take her up on her offer after they'd thought about it a moment more...and she was right. Hardly exerting any extra energy, they lifted the unconscious and barely breathing human from the floor by his arms and dragged him outside, intentionally tossing him onto the ground.

As she had asked, Garran was waiting with the speeder just outside the door, and she gave him an intense look to prevent him from saying a word. Once she paid the Weequays and watched them warily continue on down the street, she desperately returned to the dying man she had just rescued. She could hardly breathe herself.

"Dee, who - "

"Just help me get him into the speeder, _hurry!"_


	3. Part 3

His heart had stopped a handful of times as she worked, each time more reluctant to restart than the last. She was far more determined, though, to keep him alive than he was to die. She would do whatever it took.

"Hold the light steady, Garran," she demanded breathlessly. She was knelt just to the man's side, hunched over his chest with blood stains all over her clothes. Her knees and her back ached, fiercely protesting the position she'd been in for what seemed like hours. If she was successful, she thought sardonically to herself, she could add 'trauma surgeon' to her lengthy list of skills.

Thankfully, Garran complied, allowing her to continue extracting shards of transparisteel from the man's lung. The intense light helped to highlight the few remaining pieces hidden in all the blood. At least, she hoped they were the last.

Her hands trembled with anxiety as she gripped a substantial chunk with tools she had fashioned into makeshift forceps. She extracted it with slow precision, somewhat unnerved at how deeply it had been lodged. Just as she turned to toss it aside, he startled her as he woke up more fully from his semi-lucid state, becoming somewhat combative as he gasped and choked in his daze. Immediately, she dropped her tools and pressed her palm over his wound, bearing almost all her upper body weight onto it. She didn't want him to injure himself further, but she also knew that he couldn't afford to lose any more blood.

"Easy, easy!" she soothed to ease his confusion and alarm, stroking his face with her free hand. Hopefully he would respond to a familiar voice, too. "Horatio, listen to me. Try not to move, just try to relax."

He continued to choke desperately, though, unable to draw in a clean breath. If she couldn't seal his chest before the pressure differential completely collapsed his lung, he'd become far more critical than she could handle.

"Garran, bacta. Rear hold, crate just beside the control panel."

As he hurried away, she pulled a nearby box of spare ship parts toward her, tearing through its contents. Miraculously, she found exactly what she was looking for within seconds, but they were still seconds Horatio couldn't spare. He was nearly motionless once more as she completed her setup one-handed, waiting for Garran to return...

Sprinting back to her, he looked as nervous as she felt. "I only found one," he reported sadly as he opened the canister for her. She didn't respond, only interested in keeping Horatio breathing. They could worry about finding more supplies later.

"Be ready to pour it once I get the tube in."

He nodded, holding his own breath as he watched her intently. With as much care as she could, she inserted one end of the flexible tubing into Horatio's wound, submerging the other end in a small bottle of water. She sat back from Horatio's side as Garran took his cue, gently filling the rest of the wound with bacta. She had no idea if it would work, but the agonizing seconds crawled by as she waited, silently pleading for him to breathe again...

_Finally,_ he took in deep, choking gasps, and to her intense relief, they sounded like full breaths. Amazingly, his lung had reopened, her chest seal had worked and the bacta was stopping any further bleeding, but he wasn't in the clear just yet. Though she knew they weren't exactly the greatest of friends, she couldn't help but give him a small smile as he eventually opened his eyes and their gazes locked.

At first, he didn't seem to recognize her, but when his expression darkened, she knew he had figured it out.

"You again?" he challenged roughly, though his weakness and a wet cough neutralized his anger somewhat.

She refrained from rolling her eyes, the rush of relief still keeping her mood light. "We really have to stop meeting like this, you know."

"Have you been _following_ me?"

Her expression fell. Surely he hadn't forgotten the last time they'd met... "When you left me on Coruscant, you knew very well I couldn't have even gotten out of bed, much less could I have followed you anywhere."

But he didn't seem fazed in the slightest. "Then how did you find me?"

She could understand his animosity to a point, as she was in a similar position herself. Still, she only continued with compassion, keeping her voice gentle and warm. "It took me a lot longer than I wanted," she confessed to appease his ego, "but eventually I figured out that I just had to listen."

Not expecting her answer, he furrowed his brows. "For what?"

She spoke even more softly. "For the sound of a man with nothing left to lose...starting a fight he couldn't win."

Incensed but unable to argue, Horatio turned his head away from her, grimacing from the severe pain his movement had earned him. He took in and released short breaths to endure it, recovering for a moment before he bit back at her. "So I'm just lucky that you were there to save me. Again. Don't tell me you're still sick, because there's no way I'm tracking down Dr. Vil again. You're on your own for another round."

Holding back a grin, she shook her head. "No, I'm not sick."

He was beginning to sound weaker by the minute. "Then what do you want?"

"I have to need something from you to want to help you?"

"That's usually how it works...for people like me." He choked and coughed roughly, making his voice even more hoarse. "Prove me wrong."

Admittedly, she had walked right into that one. She sighed lightly after a quiet moment, ceding defeat. "...I need a favor."

He looked even more irritated. "There it is."

"Are you going to hear me out," she matched his darker tone, "or are you going to continue to mock me after I saved you from almost certain death?"

"I didn't ask you to."

"Then I can put you right back in that cantina. We haven't gone far."

Surprised at being challenged by her threat, he narrowed his eyes, but the only further protests he gave were weak gasps. She noticed that he had started to shiver, a side effect of his substantial blood loss and his body finally starting to register the severe damage it had taken. She sent Garran to retrieve some blankets for him, and looking back to Horatio, she held his gaze for a few silent moments before she continued.

"Did Jaala ever tell you what my job is exactly?"

He seemed wary of the topic. "You're a...spy, for your family."

"That's part of it," she shrugged, "but it's not the only thing I do." Taking in a slow breath, she decided how best to abridge her explanation. "Thousands of years ago, a Jedi made hundreds of predictions about the future of Paneau. Specific events, the fate of certain Royals, and the overall legacy that Paneau would leave. Part of my job has been to...make sure that things happen the way they're supposed to, so the predictions come true. The other Ghost Heirs only focus on the ones about the Royal Families, but there's one prediction they are all purposely overlooking because it doesn't concern a Royal...but someone who's been close enough to them to practically be one."

She closely watched his expression for his reaction, and as it slowly came, she wasn't surprised where his thoughts had taken him. His eyes were dark, daring her to say his former partner's name, but Deilia shook her head to dismiss his assumption.

"It's not Mand...it's her daughter, Cordira."

His eyebrows raised the slightest bit. "The clone?"

"The _altered_ clone," she amended for him, "yes. She will find herself in some kind of trouble somewhere down the line, and only an...ally, someone who isn't family or a Jedi, will be able to help her."

She couldn't help the pleading look in her eyes. She couldn't explain just how important it was going to be, either, but she had to convince him somehow. Understandably, he stared back at her dumbfounded.

"So...you think that means me."

"Yes. I can't tell you when or where - "

"Then what am I supposed to do? Do you expect me to follow her?"

"No," she shook her head quickly. "No, I think she'll find you when she needs you." She watched him roll his eyes, and honestly, she would have done the same were she in his place. "Look, there's nothing that you have to do right now. Like I said, I don't even know when this will happen. It could be weeks, months, maybe even years from now. All I'm asking from you...is a promise, that you'll be willing to help her when the time comes. I wish I could tell you more, but that's all I know."

With heavier, more labored breathing, his eyes slowly closed with his waning strength. Though he remained conscious and continued to wince with every breath, he said nothing. Her request for help from him had been blatantly denied before, however, so she still held out hope. Maybe he just had to think about it.

"You forgot to tell me," he spoke up again weakly, "the part...where I'm supposed to care."

Her stomach sank with disappointment. In the back of her mind, she had expected as much, but she had seen a small glimpse of something the last time they'd met, something that kept her from completely giving up this time...

"You do care," she answered delicately. "I know you do."

Looking back up, he leveled another challenging gaze at her, but she continued anyway.

"What you did for me...finding _and_ bringing Dr. Vil to me... You were under no obligation to do that. So I got you out of that burning building on Malastare. That was just...fortunate timing. You didn't owe me anything, but you did it anyway. You can tell yourself whatever you want: there's nothing in it for you, I'm not holding anything over your head, the girl has nothing to do with you. But I know that when it comes down to it, when it matters...you'll do the right thing. You always have. You saved Mand's life, you saved my brother's life...and you saved mine."

She swallowed hard, desperate to smooth the quiver in her voice. "You don't have to give me any kind of answer right now. But I _had_ to look you in the eyes when I asked this of you. I will continue to care for your wound until it's healed, or until you're strong enough to leave under your own power. And then...that will be it. You'll never see me again."

Surprising her, he suddenly seemed...resigned, as if she had told him something about himself he hadn't wanted to believe. With all the loss he had suffered in his life, she knew he didn't trust himself, but maybe hearing it from someone else would bolster his confidence, strengthen his resolve...

Though still so weak, he had finally begun to respond, but Garran's return quickly halted him. The younger man was oblivious to the mood between them as he carefully draped a blanket over Horatio, and despite being intensely curious what he was going to say, she decided that she could wait. Horatio's eyes closed heavily with the comfort of warmth, and Deilia knew his body needed the rest. As gently as she could, she lifted his head and placed a small pillow under it, only eliciting a slight grimace from him. He was still sprawled across her ship's bloodied durasteel floor, but at least she could provide him with some relief, however small. Within minutes, he was stable and sound asleep, but she stayed at his side, continuing to monitor his condition throughout the night.


	4. Part 4

Startled awake by a sudden noise, Deilia bolted upright, her eyes instantly snapping open. Laying on the floor, she had a light blanket draped over her, but she quickly tossed it aside as she scanned her surroundings, searching for the source of what she had heard. She looked to her right at the cot where she had gotten Horatio set up three days ago, and she was somewhat surprised to find it empty. He wasn't anywhere near strong enough, but...she could understand his desire to leave. She wasn't going to keep him here against his will.

Expecting him to be long gone, she released a defeated sigh, though it was interrupted by a weak, wet cough echoing behind her. She spun around just in time to see Horatio collapse against the corridor wall, his back to her as he was leaving the cargo hold. His legs were still underneath him, but she could tell his stamina was rapidly waning. On her feet immediately, she only took a dozen steps to reach him, standing in front of him and steadying him as carefully as she could. She expected him to send her away, physically or verbally, but she only read intense pain on his face as he struggled to keep himself standing.

"I hope you weren't trying to leave," she began lightly, gently easing his weight onto her as she pulled his good arm around her shoulders. He leaned onto her much more than she was expecting, forcing her to wrap her other arm behind his back for more stability as she slowly walked with him back to the open room.

His face was paler than she had ever seen. "Didn't get far."

His left arm hung limply at his side, as it had since he had woken up days ago, much to his dismay. Of course the brutal stabbing had damaged the muscles of his left chest, but it had disrupted a nerve somewhere, too, and it wasn't healing quickly, if at all. She lowered him down onto the makeshift bed with some difficulty, managing his bulk against her more slender frame when he couldn't steady himself. With a free hand, she adjusted the angle under his upper torso so he could sit more upright, allowing him to more easily breathe.

Mostly settled onto the cot, he rested his head back against the pillow behind him, seeming to even lose consciousness for a few brief moments. She stayed by his side and watched him closely, making sure he wasn't crashing as she pressed her fingers into his neck. His pulse was weak, but at least it remained steady, and as he came back around, he met her gaze silently, still trying to catch his breath.

Something about the look in his eyes kept her hand against his skin, though she was no longer paying attention to his heartbeat...

A choking cough from him interrupted their silence, and snapped out of her daze, she moved her hand down to his shirt collar, tugging on it to determine if he had done any noticeable damage during his premature departure. With a swift movement she wasn't expecting, he grabbed her wrist in a powerful grip with his good hand, stopping her. She waited for his scathing words...but when they didn't come, she kept her voice as gentle as possible.

"I just want to be sure you didn't tear or reopen anything."

Though the warning expression he gave her slowly dissipated, it took him longer to release his hold on her hand. Finally able to, she inspected his wound, carefully easing the bandage off of it. Thankfully, she didn't see any new blood on the surface, but that didn't mean he hadn't worsened something deeper. She applied gentle pressure around the edges of the delicate bacta seal, garnering several intense grimaces and groans from him, but he didn't protest further. Satisfied that he would be okay for the time being, she gingerly replaced the bandage and adjusted his shirt, looking him over for a moment. Just as she had begun to speak, Garran returned to the room briefly, bringing them some water and food rations. She smiled and thanked him as she accepted them, and as he left, she watched Horatio's gaze follow him.

"Your kid?"

She shook her head. "Cousin." After a moment, she continued sadly. "I haven't seen my son in...four years. I haven't even met my brother's two youngest children. Their fourth child, a boy named Kyren, was born a few weeks ago."

She didn't have to ask him how long it had been since he had seen his nephews, and thankfully he didn't seem upset at the mention of hers. As hard as he was still breathing, she knew he was exhausted, but still, she had to hear it from him...

"How do you feel?"

He didn't want to answer. "Weak."

She nodded in understanding. "You lost a _lot_ of blood, and you've only had a few short days to make up the difference. Honestly...I am really surprised that you did make it, all things considered. You were...pretty critical." Suddenly curious about something else, she brought her hand back up, delicately placing her palm against his cheek. Expectedly, he looked uneasy with her touch, unsure what she was doing until she moved her hand to his forehead.

"Doesn't feel like you have a fever," she explained, returning her hand to her side. "I was afraid the bacta wasn't going to be strong enough to ward off any infection, but it seems to be doing the job so far."

Despite looking relieved, as well, he remained silent, even as she searched his eyes for some kind of response. When he gave nothing after a few tense moments, she brought up something she had just seen.

"You have another scar," she observed softly, "right next to the new one. I didn't notice it earlier." She had been too focused on fixing the gaping hole in his chest the Weequays had given him. When he didn't look too intent on explaining, she came up with something on her own. "Do you make a habit of starting cantina brawls?"

Seemingly unwilling to answer, he turned his head away, staring at the far wall for a long while before he finally spoke.

"I was attacked by a vornskr hybrid six years ago," he answered, his voice still rough and weak as he looked. "It had a spiked tail it used on me. Thought it was going to kill me."

"So you've been in this...condition before."

Still looking the other direction, he hesitated. "Not exactly. Last time...I didn't have..." He couldn't finish his thought aloud, though, closing his eyes as if to shut everything out. She gave him time to recover before she continued with something that had been bothering her since she had found him in that cantina...

"Why _did_ you start that fight, Horatio?"

Earning his gaze once more, she watched his expression churn through a dozen different emotions. She proceeded carefully. "You had to know how outnumbered and outmatched you were... Were you _trying_ to get yourself killed?"

Again, he was hesitant to answer. She almost thought he wasn't going to answer at all.

"Maybe."

Moved with compassion for him, she simply waited, hoping that he would elaborate, but not demanding it. She sat down on the floor at his right side after a moment, having to look up at him though he continued to stare at the ceiling.

"When she was in her early twenties," he spoke slowly, "my sister was involved with a spice dealer. He was...violent and abusive, among other things. When she tried to leave him with their unborn son, he sent two thugs after her, and they nearly beat her to death. They both survived, but the dealer, Soran, ended up kidnapping Max two years later.

"I overheard those two Weequays talking about Soran's latest movements while I was refueling on Nar Shaddaa, so I started to follow them. Eventually they ended up in that cantina, and when one of them mentioned Recero...how he wished he had killed her before she'd had Max...to save Soran the trouble... I snapped. I don't remember anything after I landed my first blow. It's all just a...blur, of rage, and pain... I wanted to make them _hurt_ as much as I did," he finished bitterly, "but I couldn't even do that."

Against her better judgment, against every fiber in her body telling her not to, she reached up to him, lightly gripping his hand at his side. He flinched the slightest bit as his muscles tensed with her touch, though he maintained his upward gaze. After a lengthy silence, he spoke up once more with a dark tone.

"You asked me to help Cordira, someday, somehow. What makes you think I could do it, even if I wanted to?"

She released a shaky breath, tightening her hold on his hand the slightest bit. "You did it for me...and I was quite certain you didn't want to."

Looking down at her with a hard gaze, she could see his emotions were taking a severe toll on his remaining energy. She hadn't intended to upset him so much. Hoping to alleviate her guilt, she released his hand as she pulled herself up onto her knees. It put her at eye level with him just to his side, and though he looked wary of her, he didn't move when she leaned even closer to him.

"Horatio," she breathed, "you left Coruscant so quickly that day...I never got a chance to thank you."

"I didn't want you to."

She nodded. "I know." Before he could protest, and before she could back down, she swept him up into a sweet, effortless kiss, her hands gently cupping his jaw. She could feel his body relaxing against her as he willingly gave back, and it only pulled her in more. As their lips finally parted, though, he was left breathless, and she didn't have the heart to move from his side until he had fallen asleep once more. He would leave soon, she knew, but at least she'd have done everything she could while she had the chance this time.


	5. Part 5

It had been almost three weeks since she had last left the rear hold of her small ship, focused solely on Horatio's recovery, but as close as he was to being able to leave, she wanted to give him at least one final gift. After a constant diet of bland, hardly tolerable food rations, the only supplies she'd had on hand when she rescued him, a hot meal would be a welcome change for them both. It was going to be the last time she'd ever see him, and she wanted to make a lasting impression.

The aroma of the local specialty wafting into the ship ahead of her had to have already gotten his attention before she had even made it to the top of the lowered ramp, but as her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting within the hold, she didn't see Horatio anywhere inside. His jacket was gone, his cot was empty, as were the pilot and copilot seats she could see down the corridor. Trying to quell her disappointment a second time, she placed the meal down on the cargo crate that had served as their table for the past few weeks, no longer interested in it for herself. She had begun to walk toward the cockpit, faintly curious if he had left her a message, but she heard footsteps behind her, halting her.

Striding up the ramp with one side of his jacket draped over his slinged arm to conceal it, Horatio met her gaze and came to a stop himself, studying her for a long, tense moment before he spoke.

"Needed some fresh air."

Surprising her, his voice was quiet and somewhat reticent; it was almost as if he were confessing, giving her a reason for his absence though she neither demanded nor required it. He sounded weary, but it was the most he had said to her in days; he had remained withdrawn and silent since she had shared a gentle, earnest kiss with him, belatedly expressing her gratitude for his help. He was regaining his strength, she knew, but his attitude toward her after that night had been tough to interpret, to say the least. She let go of a slow breath as she nodded, watching him carefully as he continued into the hold.

"I thought you might like to have some real food for a change," she began casually, extending a hand to the crate as she stepped toward it, as well. "Some kind of roasted nerf. The droid repair shop owner down the street swore by it."

Though he glanced over the plate of meat with muted interest, he looked back up at her with an expression she found odd. He seemed to be suddenly skeptical, as though he was about to completely refuse the meal for some reason. Undeterred, she maintained a wan smile on her face until he finally lowered himself onto his cot, carefully holding his left arm against his chest as he moved.

"Where's Garran?"

He had maintained his gaze on the plate as he spoke, not yet moving to take any. He had to be starving, but she knew it wasn't etiquette keeping him from taking the first bite...it was caution. He was waiting for her to eat first, as he had every time they had shared a meal. Obliging him one last time, she slowly sat beside him as she grabbed a modest chunk of nerf and chewed, answering him after she'd chased it down with a generous gulp of water.

"I sent him on some errands for me. He won't be back for a few days."

Though he had regained some weak function in his left hand over the past week, he still only used his right to pick at the plate with extreme prejudice that was unusual; just a few mouthfuls passed his inspection as they sat together in a lengthy silence, but glad that he was finally taking in some decent protein, she didn't bother him about it. Something else was on her mind entirely. She wasn't sure if she had the strength to pose the question she had for him, but she knew she'd have no other chance...

"Can I ask you something?"

He met her gaze again, but he didn't even blink. "Not having permission hasn't stopped you before."

She had to choose her words carefully, speaking slowly and softly to keep his attention. "The first time we met...I saved your life. So I had self-serving reasons for doing so, I didn't think you'd have much of a problem with it after the fact. And these past three weeks, again I've needed a favor of you, and I have done _nothing_ but care for you...for your wound... Yet every glass, every plate, you've looked at me like you expect me to try to _poison_ you." She hardly had any breath left. "After all this...you still don't trust me?"

She wasn't surprised to see his eyes harden as he clenched his jaw. "It's nothing personal. I just don't trust _anyone."_

With a quick, fluid movement she wasn't expecting, he stood from the cot and returned to the top of the ramp at the rear of the hold, standing with his back to her as he looked out into the dark, silent spaceport they had docked in days ago. She held her breath, expecting him to continue walking away...but for some reason he remained in place, motionless. She had dared to strike a nerve in him, and as much as she knew he could hurt her in return, she didn't want him to leave in pain.

Swallowing her fear as she got to her feet, she watched him closely, taking careful steps toward him until she stood just behind him to his right. She somehow kept a slight tremor out of her voice. "You can't do everything on your own... You have to know that now, especially after that fight in the cantina I pulled you out of, barely alive. It's just not possible. There has to be _someone_ you go to, someone you confide in..."

His shoulders tensed with each passing moment, as if his breath was solidifying in his chest. The darkness in his tone chilled her to her core.

"Putting your trust in someone...is just giving them free license to figure out how to betray you, and hurt you, a _hundred_ different ways..."

She heard her words before she had even thought to form them. "...I trust you."

Turning his head to her, he searched her eyes intently for any hint of a lie before he gave a weak scoff. "You shouldn't."

"Why? Because of what you did to me?" Looking guilty, he resumed his forward gaze, prompting her to continue. "Yes, how untrustworthy of you to bring me the help I needed when I needed it the most."

His expression had hardened once more, and as she realized what it was that bothered him so, she let go of a soft sigh.

"I know what you used to be, what you used to do. Believe it or not, I've lived a similar life. We're a lot more alike than you think, maybe even more than you care to admit, except for one thing. Horatio," she breathed, "...you are not the sum of your mistakes. Your past doesn't negate your present."

His brows furrowed together as he stared ahead intensely. "Yeah, it does."

Sensing that he was beginning to close himself off, she withdrew for a long moment, allowing him to calm his racing mind. She had seen the regret that had surfaced in his eyes the instant she mentioned his past actions, and it worried her. He still harbored so much guilt for initially refusing to help her after their first meeting, despite the fact that he eventually made up for it by saving her life when she was so dangerously close to death. How, then, could he have absolved himself of his previous sins under Tzymo, the Huxnel, and a number of other employers, when one he actually _had_ rectified continued to haunt him? He didn't think himself worthy of redemption, but she needed him to...

She had to quiet her voice even more to keep from startling him. "People change. Regardless of your history, you can remake yourself into anything you want. I'm living proof of that." Curious, he met her gaze once more. "You're not the man you think you are," she concluded faintly, "...you're better."

Her statement only seemed to confuse him more. He turned to face her completely, even taking a few steps closer to her with defeated body language. "Look, what do you want from me?"

It was a simple enough question, but she suddenly had some difficulty finding her voice. "It would be nice to know...that you won't try to get yourself _killed_ again."

As she expected, his eyes narrowed. "Right, because you need me to do your job for you."

She was becoming somewhat fond of his biting wit. "If I could do it, I would...but it's not my place. Like I told you before, it has to be someone who's not a family member or a Jedi."

"Last time I checked, you qualified for both categories, too, so answer my question: _why_ does this fall to me?"

She had yet to accept it herself, so she knew he wouldn't, either. "Because my part in it will take me on a completely different path."

As his brows furrowed again, he looked almost...concerned? "What does that even mean?"

"It means what it means. I've asked for your help because I need it, because Cordira will need it."

Though she wasn't sure what she had said to trigger it, realization passed over his expression, softening his eyes the longer he held her gaze in the lengthy silence.

"...have you told Garran?"

She blinked, blindsided by the change in direction. "Have I told him what?"

Shaking his head, he momentarily glanced at the floor between them. "Figures that you don't take your own advice... You lecture _me_ on not doing things alone...and you weren't even planning on telling your closest friend that you'll be leaving for a suicide mission."

Her breath left her as she froze in shock, her fear getting the better of her though she had determinedly hidden it from him. How could he possibly have known? Had it been her words or her tone of voice that had given it away so easily? She hadn't even finalized her plans, nor had she intended to tell him, but she already knew how it would all have to end. She simply wasn't prepared to face it just yet.

She could only whisper in response. "He doesn't need to know."

Moved with muted compassion she hadn't expected to see from him, she watched through tear-blurred vision as he slowly closed the distance between them. She couldn't help but flinch as she felt his hand gently grip her upper arm, locking her in place as she closed her eyes to shield herself from his gaze. The warmth of his touch had a calming effect on her she couldn't have predicted, preventing her from further alarm as he lightly pressed his lips against hers. She felt nothing but delight at the fulfillment of her weeks-long desire, but the more she gave back, the more he retreated...

With no more than a breath of separation, he could hardly speak. "Of all the people you could have gone to for this..."

Her heart was racing and aching at the same time. "You were the only one I knew I could trust...to keep my secret."

She felt his hand sweep up the side of her neck as he pulled her more closely to him, meeting her with another impassioned kiss. It was a connection she had been missing for years since she had begun her exile, one she wasn't about to surrender though her final mission loomed in the back of her mind the entire time.


End file.
